


Freaky Moonday

by Mr_Bilinski



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action, Comedy, F/M, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-04-25 03:40:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4945411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mr_Bilinski/pseuds/Mr_Bilinski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Hale has been, for all intents and purposes, incarcerated in Eichen House for quite a while. As he begins to question his sanity (finally), he begins to hear a voice in his head. She promises him a way out of Eichen House, but there's a catch: he must vow to break her out in return or be brought back to Eichen House again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Birthday Surprise

"Scott? Scotty!!"

"Stiles..." Scott droned, muffled by his comforter, "unless there is a killer creature with the ability to kill you in some..."

Stiles furrowed his brow, "How would a killer creature _not_ have the ability to kill in some way?"

Scott grunted, "Stiles!"

"We're going to be late for school if you--", he was interrupted by a lightheartedly irritated growl from Scott.

"I know it's my birthday, which means it's..."

"Monday!" Stiles replied in a 'told you so' manner as he tugged on the comforter, "And as the son of the Sheriff, I really can't condone truancy."

"What are you talking about? You told me to ditch with you last Thursday so we could--"

"Not the point, dude." Stiles shook his head with a knowing smirk as he headed toward the bedroom door, "You have a whole group of friends who want to wish you a happy birthday and share it with you--friends who _aren't_ skipping school, by the way, because they may or may not have planned a few surprises."

Scott rolled over and sat up before shooting Stiles a look of sincere horror, "It's not another one of Liam's Rapper-grams, is it?"

Stiles suppressed a snicker as he fought the urge to tell Scott the truth, "I...cannot confirm nor deny that," he said as he went to the closet to find clothes for Scott since he clearly wasn't in any hurry.

"Or another one of Malia's road kills in my locker? That was kind of awkward explaining to Coach last year."

Stiles stopped rummaging through the shirts to tilt his head and fix Scott with a glare, "They aren't _roadkill_ ; she hunts those things fresh, you know."

Scott grimaced with an audible groan before he stood up and reached for a pair of pants. His frown soon twisted into a smile as he zipped up and replaced his shirt while Stiles shot him an amused grin. He narrowed his eyes, "What's up?"

Stiles shrugged cheekily, "You tell me, Chuck E Cheesy. You were all broody for a sec then suddenly you look like you snuck into the girls locker room for the first time or something."

"She actually hunted a deer for me?"

Stiles cocked a brow before he nodded, "Yeah..." he scratched behind his ear before shrugging impassively, "I woke up my last birthday with a cougar on the hood of my baby." His eyes widened as Scott started laughing, "That didn't come out right..."

"Hey, do you know what Kira got me?", Scott asked as they exited the room.

"A card reading 'Netflix & chill' featuring a back-to-back presentation of Fox and the Hound 1 and 2? I don't know..."

 

\-----)(EICHEN HOUSE)(-----

 

_This must be what going mad feels like..._

_Been... cooped up in this itty bitty cell for so long...so long..._

He reached down to pick up the styrofoam plate with the diagonally-cut ham and Swiss cheese sandwich with lettuce on whole wheat bread and tore off a sliver of the plate, setting it down next to another one on the makeshift calendar he'd made on the floor. He looked at the sandwich again with disdain before he lowered the plate back down to the floor.

_Same old food, every day. Same glass of water, same miniature oatmeal raisin cookie for a meager dessert. This isn't a psychiatric hospital..._

_It's not even a prison..._

_It's a damned_

"KENNEL!!!!" Peter screamed out, his eyes glowing a raging blue, veins bulging along his neck as he let out an angry roar, then sprung towards the clear door to deliver a drop kick, falling to the ground with no avail. He already knew what would happen; it's happened over a thousand times before.

"You think it's so _cute_ , don't you?!", he demanded.

 _"Like a little injured pup at the shelter,"_ a disembodied female voice muses in his mind, _"that knows he's going to be put down soon...and nobody wants him."_

"Oh really?" Peter grinned, chuckling incessantly, "And I suppose I'm so lucky because the nice bitchy voice in my head is the only one who chose to stick around? I'm touched."

_"Oh, you're optimistic. That'll do nicely..."_

Peter's face paled, "Now I know I'm not making you up. Who are you?"

 _"It's not who I am that is of most importance right now, Peter, so much as what I want. Freedom."_

"Pick a number, sister," he scoffed.

_"Oh, but I have, Peter; and I've picked yours. I want my freedom and it is only attainable through yours. I can get you out of here."_

"Well, if you can get out of here then why would you stick around to ask me for help? You're not exactly good at this 'selling' thing."

 _"The guards here are wise to my...talents. I can switch your conscience with another, then you come spring me, we switch you back, and kill whoever you switched with."_

"Oh, it sounds so simple," he mused skeptically, "And I'm assuming the catch is what's keeping you from doing it yourself?"

_"In a manner of sorts. It would have to be someone you have a bond with, someone close by. I have no one. But you might, which means we may have a clear shot at this. Where is your alpha, werewolf?"_

Peter raged with a roar, "I HAVE NO ALPHA!!!!!" He incessantly pounded against the Plexiglas wall as his voice lowered, quivering in anger, "I... _am_ the alpha..." He trailed off as he caught his breath.

_"I'm sorry, dear, but are you even mentally capable of handling this mission?"_

Peter rolled his eyes, "I have someone on the outside; just get to the point, Mavis," he drawled, "before you lose my interest. I'm quite mad, you know."

 

_"Perfect. All you have to do is get a feel for that bond, as if you can feel them around you and then I will do the rest. You will have three days time to sort everything out and break me free. Fail, or renege on your end of the deal, and you will find yourself right where you are now."_

"It only lasts three days?"

_"The spell will last however long I desire. My patience, however, won't."_

\-------------------

 

"Happy birthday, Scott!" Kira greeted with a smile as she ran up and hugged the young alpha. The two shared a giddy laughter as she pulled away to tease, "If you're expecting presents, you'll have to wait 'til later." Her grin faltered, "I-I mean, they're not here. The presents. They...are somewhere else; somewhere...not...here." She sighed exasperatedly as she softly chastised herself, "Nice save from Yukimura."

Scott smiled as he leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, "I knew what you meant. I wasn't expecting presents, honestly; I'm just...happy to see you."

"McCall!" Coach Finstock yelled out from his office, "My office!" His gaze trailed off to shoot a glare at a passing student, "Wipe that expectant look off your face, Greenberg; I never want to see that expression coming from you ever again!"

"Poor Greenberg..." Kira said sympathetically as she watched him walk away before returning a smile to Scott, "So, I'll catch you later?"

"Yeah," Scott replied with a nod before the two leaned in to kiss each other.

"MCCALL!"

Scott quickly closed the gap to plant a kiss on her cheek before he started rushing off, "Gotta go, see ya!"

As Kira watched Scott walk away, she turned her head to ask Stiles, "You said we're doing it at your house, right?" The two shared a look before she looked away, "You know what I meant..."

 

\-----)(EICHEN HOUSE)(-----

_"Now, are you sure you've chosen the best candidate for the job?"_

"Well, considering my remaining living relatives are either dead or out of town..." his mind trailed to Malia, "at least the ones I've bonded with, anyway. The only other option is the one werewolf I turned...a True Alpha."

 _"A True Alpha?"_ The voice cackled with glee, _"Oh, this just gets better and better, now doesn't it? And what of his pack? Will they be a concern?"_

Peter smirked as he brought up a clawed finger, "Only for a minute."

\--------------------

 

As Coach Finstock continued speaking to him, Scott started to feel disoriented. He rubbed gentle circles into his temple before looking up at the Coach and nodding, "I completely agree, Coach."

Finstock froze mid-sentence and leaned in a little, "You feeling alright, McCall? You're looking a little pale, like my Cousin Georgie after he took a bite out of Grandma LuAnn's Bundt cake and came down with--"

"I'm fine, Coach," Scott hurriedly interjected before he heard some disgusting detail about Coach's Cousin Georgie that he could definitely live without knowing, "Thanks."

"Right," he responded with clear skepticism, "well, anyways I just wanted to let you know scouts from UCLA were coming and I really think you could have a future with this."

"I...thanks, Coach, but I don't really see myself playing lacrosse professionally."

"Are you kidding me? Nobody does. McCall, that's why you use the scholarship, play well, and find your future in the process. Opportunities like this don't come knocking often. You don't have to let them in, but you could at least answer the door."

"I'll think about it, Coach," Scott said with a smile as he stood up and made his way to the door.

"Oh, and happy birthday, Scott."

"Thanks, Coach," he replied as he shut the door behind himself. He started making his way down the hall to his first class when Stiles ran up to him.

"Scotty!" His best friend said with a grin as he clapped him on the shoulder, "So, I was thinking, Halo tourney at my place after school, huh? Birthday tradition, man."

Scott rubbed his neck as he forced a smile, trying to ignore the way the room was spinning, "Sure, Stiles; sounds great."

"Hey," Stiles grabbed Scott's arm to stop him, "you're not looking too hot, man."

"I'm not feeling too hot, either."

"Are you okay, Scott?"

Scott narrowed his eyes as he looked at Stiles, swaying slightly, "The better question is why are there six of--" his voice trailed off as his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground.

"Holy crap--Scott? Scotty!"

 

\-------------------

It was an hour and ten minutes later when he was awoken by the school bell going off, signaling the end of the first class. His brows furrowed as he clamped his eyes shut, trying to block out the suddenly intense light in the room. He groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose, begging the intense throbbing in his head to subside.

"Hey, he's waking up. Hey, Scotty."

He inhaled deeply before he opened his eyes to see Stiles, Lydia, Liam, and Kira surrounding his bed...in the nurse's office? "God, what happened?"

"You took a fall, dude," Stiles explained, "How are you feeling now? Deaton said we'd have to watch out for anymore symptoms before he can tell us what it could have been that caused it."

He shook his head as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, "No, I don't think we should be too concerned. I think I'll be fine, man."

Stiles slowly cocked an eyebrow, "Are you sure, dude? Because werewolves don't usually--"

"I'm sure...Stiles," he started irritably but then softened his tone to a more friendly manner, "I just think I need to take some time with my thoughts. See you at your place later?" He asked as he got off the bed and started to leave.

"Yeah...of course." Stiles waited for Scott to leave before he turned to the other three, "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Slight personality displacement brought on by sudden head trauma when he collapsed on the floor?" Lydia offered with a shrug, "He's probably just disoriented. We'll figure it out later, but for now..." she purses her lips into a coy grin, "we have a party to put together."

 

\-----)(EICHEN HOUSE)(-----

What was going on? His world was starting to come to again, but it wasn't as bright as he remembered, not much of a contrast from the darkness he was coming out of. Wherever he was, it was cold and damp; the atmosphere murky and oppressive at best. Was he still in the high school?

When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was a dim yellow light flickering over his head, surrounded by a grimy, green wall covered in mildew. The stench was almost burning his nostrils, assaulting his heightened senses.

He struggled to push himself off the ground, overall queasiness and disorientation inhibiting him from having much success in his endeavor. He released a groan, his eyes widening at the sudden change in baritone to his voice. With curiosity renewing his fervor, he managed to grab onto the side of the small sink and pulled himself to his feet.

As his eyes fell on the mirror in front of him, he watched the unexpected reflection's eyes match his horrified expression. His blood ran cold as he studied the face in the mirror; the familiar face that couldn't be his.

"This isn't real," he muttered before he clutched at his throat, the voice more damning evidence of this being all too real. He studied the reflection again, his eyes falling on the places where shards had been broken off before he roared and smashed his fist into the wall beside the mirror, splintering the drywall.

"PETER!!!!!!!"

 

\----------------

It was nearing sundown when he approached Stiles' house, a triumphant smirk on his face as he started to focus on the voices coming from inside,

_"He's coming! Hide!"_

_"Can you yell that any louder, Stiles? I don't think the alpha werewolf outside heard you clearly enough the first time."_

_"Y'know, I would, Lyds, but yelling and screaming is kind of your forte, so..."_

_"I'll make you scream in a minute if you don't--"_

_"You both realize he can probably hear you arguing, right?"_

_"Shut up, Liam!"_

An ambush, huh? How the hell were they onto him already? Oh, well; it's not like he hadn't planned on killing them anyway. He ducked around toward the back and snuck in through the back door, being mindful not to make any unnecessary sound. He was the predator again, hunting his prey again after a long hibernation. They'd gotten the best of him before, but now he'd see how well they could fair without their precious True Alpha.

He had to fight back the chuckle as he stood in the doorway behind them, eying the various balloons and decorations, a 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' banner hung over the couch. So, it was his birthday? Well, he certainly gave him a hell of a present.

As everyone peeked out from their hiding places to keep an eye on the front door, he rolled his eyes and reached over to flip the lights on. Maybe killing them wouldn't be as fun of a challenge as he thought. When everyone jumped and turned around, he shot them all a sly grin, 

"Surprise."


	2. It's My Party(And I'll Be Who I Want To)

Everyone in front of Peter exchanged slightly embarrassed looks except for Stiles, who was shaking his head and cursing himself for not thinking about the back door. Kira was beaming as she gave "Scott" a hug, wishing him a happy birthday. Peter vaguely remembered her as Scott's girlfriend before he had to spare his attention to everyone else.

Stiles was standing behind the couch with Malia, Lydia was seated in a chair, that tiny blonde pup grenade Scott had bitten was approaching him as he turned the ball cap on his head to the side. Peter furrowed his brow and rolled his eyes as he watched him tap his phone screen, some crappy computerized version of generic instrumental hip hop music beginning to play. 

His bemused expression unfaltering as his eyes followed the kid as he swayed side to side a few times, Peter allowed him one syllable before swiping his arm out and grabbing the kid by the throat. The entire room drew in a collective gasp, causing Peter to rethink his actions.

_If I'm going to be successful, I'm going to have to play the part for a little while. That'll be hard to do if 'Scott' suddenly killed his first beta._

Forming a friendly smile, Peter immediately let go of Liam's throat and gave him a pat on the shoulder, "Sorry, it's, uh...been a long day."

Liam searched 'Scott's' eyes for something before he finally returned the smile, albeit with minor hesitance, "Sure, no worries."

Peter nodded, then scanned the room for the rest of the guests. His eyes lit up gleefully as they fell upon Melissa, his smile widening into a grin, "Mommy." When Melissa looked confused, he quickly recovered, "Sorry, uh..." he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "it's just been so long since I called you that. Thought I'd try it out again."

"And how's that working for you?" Stiles supplied, obviously trying to help his best friend cover.

"No more awkward than the way the rest of the night's been going."

"Then maybe we should try _not_ being awkward?" Stiles offered, not really knowing what was going on with his best friend but determined to find out.

 _Or, I could just start ripping out throats now and be done with this childish distraction,_ Peter thought while he scanned the table full of gifts, gifts that poor Scott McCall will never open. That cake looked delicious, though. He'd definitely be having a piece or two.

Maybe he would even use Mama McCall's dying breath to blow out the candle?

It certainly has a poetic ring to it.

But truth be told, he'd grown so bored of simple killing. Killing for the sake of killing was a rush at first, but once the novelty wore off he discovered something quite fascinating about taking another life.

It's more fulfilling if the death suits a purpose. Why kill somebody for the sake of leaving a body when the same action could be used to manipulate the circumstances in your favor? 

Maybe he didn't have to kill Scott's pack--or his mother, for that matter. After all, once he killed them all and switched back bodies, he would still have hunters and Eichen House's associates coming after Peter Hale, wouldn't he? He'd be foolish to consider taking them by himself. A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his thoughts before he turned around and greeted the girl with a smile.

"Malia," he said with a subtle hint of surprise, "how are you doing?" And why was she looking at him like she expected him to breathe fire or something?

"Actually, I'm more interested in your answer...," Malia trailed off as she leaned in to examine Scott's eyes more closely, "You've been acting...off all day. Is there something going on?"

Peter drew in a sharp breath and held it in to buy himself some time. As he huffed out the air, he crossed his arms and said, "You're right; I've been acting strangely because there _is_ something going on, but I've kept it from you because I can handle it." He paused to deliver his best impression of Scott's puppy eyes before he asked, "Please don't tell the others?"

 

\-------EICHEN HOUSE---------

 

 _"Oh! Yes, yes!"_ the witch's voice shrilled in Scott's mind with glee. He could almost hear her clapping, _"That Peter Hale sure doesn't beat around the bush, does he?"_

Scott growled, turning his head to the side as if the witch were in the room with him, "We must not be talking about the same Peter Hale."

_"Oh, believe me, Pup, we are. Why, he's even offing your little pack one-by-one, even as we speak. Oh, goody! He's moved on to Mommy! My, she does look radiant covered in her own blood!"_

Scott roared, "SHUT UP!!!!!"

"Alright, Hale," said the orderly as he entered the room, gun slung around his shoulder and a small cup with pills inside in his other hand. He shot 'Peter' a look of discontempt while he stalked up to the wall that separated them, "I've got your meds."

Scott stepped back as he returned the orderly's glare, "I told you, I'm not him."

"Then who the hell are you? Let me guess: the real Peter somehow switched bodies with you, right?" The orderly chuckled skeptically, "You're entertaining, Peter; I'll give you that."

Scott roared as he charged at the wall and slammed his fists into it, his eyes glowing red as he shouted through a growl, "I'm not...Peter Hale."

The orderly scoffed before he slid the cup of pills into the cell and left the room. The witch's voice returned as she happily advised him.

_"Oo, take the orange one first! He's about to kill your best friend and you'll practically be able to see it if you're inoculated. Hehehe..."_

 

\-----------------------------

 

He should have killed them. This house should be littered with bodies and he should already be on his way to exacting the ultimate vengeance, but instead he chose to let the insufferable goodie goods live and now he was in Hell.

He needed to get out of here. Every moment he spent at this party was a moment wasted to the plan. If he left now then he could take care of his personal vendetta and still have time to cook up a story to drag the pack into fighting for him and let the witch out before his time was up.

Having grown tired of pretending not to hear Liam chattering incessantly in his ear about lacrosse practice, Peter cleared his throat and stood up, clapping Stiles on the shoulder, "Stiles, I'm sorry but there's something I need to take care of." He turned to look back at Liam before he added, "And make sure the Rugrat doesn't follow me."

"Wait, what? Scott, are you kidding me?" Stiles asked incredulously, "Dude, you can't bail on your own birthday party."

"Well, since it's my birthday, isn't that my choice?" Peter smiled sympathetically, "I'm sorry, Stiles. You have to know I wouldn't leave if this wasn't of the utmost importance."

"Yeah...yeah, okay." Stiles nodded, narrowing his eyes as they followed Scott's path out of the house, "Since when did 'utmost' exist in Scott McCall's vocabulary?"

 

\----------------------------

"And to what do I owe this pleasure of today's visit, Scott?"

Peter stood still in the doorway with his shoulders squared, his eyes partly narrowed as he glared at the older man seated in front of him. It brought him a sense of satisfaction to see the black viscous fluid that continued to seep from his orifices.

It just didn't bring him enough satisfaction to leave him satiated. It didn't matter how much agony the man was in or how much he detested himself for succumbing to the temptations of the supernatural to save his hyde. He would find the other one later; after all, charity starts at home.

"Gerard Argent," he started, "cancer, an Alpha's bite, and mountain ash couldn't even kill you." He brought up his hand and pretended to study his nails, "Surely a testament of your strength, is it not?"

Gerard smirked as he turned around, "Did you really come visit little old me to exchange empty semantics, Scott, or is there a point?"

"Oh," Peter chuckled with a grin, "there's a point. Trust me."

"Well, then might I suggest you get on with it? I'm an old man, Scott; I need my rest."

Peter slowly made his way closer to Gerard, taking his time to savor the moment, "Now, don't be in such a rush, Gerard. I can promise you this is the last time you'll ever see me; you'll have plenty of time to...rest when I leave." He paused when he was a few feet away and tilted his head to the side. Noting Gerard's look of confusion he added, "But before we part ways, I want to make sure the two of us are on the same page."

Gerard gave him a cross between a smug smirk and a snarl as he leaned forward, "I'm a werewolf hunter and you are a werewolf; we will never be on the same page."

"Well, that's your...closed point of view, Gerard, but I happen to disagree. Whatever I've done, whatever either one of us has been up to whether it's leading a pack or," he looked at him with disdain, "living it up geriatric style, it's brought us to this moment; the final chapter. I mean, let's face the facts here, Gerry--can I call you Gerry? You're a werewolf hunter who's infected with the Bite."

"I am not infec--"

"You're infected with the Bite and the mountain ash is fighting it off; which you should be thankful for considering if it wasn't for that you'd be one of us by now." He leaned in close to Gerard's face, staring him down as a smile slowly crept onto his face, "You're the very thing you detest, and you're still not--at the same time. You've always been pretty good at walking on both sides of the line, haven't you? Hunter/murderer, werewolf/not-werewolf...alive/dead. You're a dead man in a wheelchair, Gerry, and I've come here--out of the goodness of my own heart and on my birthday, no less--to bring you a gift. Isn't that awfully kind of me, Gerry?"

Gerard tried to level him with a glare, "Do not call me that, Scott, or so help me--"

"What're you going to do, Argent? You and I both know if you were capable of even scratching me you'd have done it by now." Peter's eyes glowed bright blue as he stalked around the desk, keeping his eyes on Gerard.

"You're not Scott. An alpha's eyes wouldn't be anything but red unless they lost their status." He narrowed his eyes as he started wheeling back, "Who are you?"

Peter chuckled as he brought up a clawed hand, "I'm the alpha you all underestimated--severely, by my observations." Every inch Gerard rolled back, he countered with a step forward. He couldn't fight back the chuckle as he said, "Don't tell me the great Gerard Argent is truly frightened by death? After all the deaths you've witnessed, by your own hands?"

Peter reached out and grabbed him by the throat before he yanked him out of the wheelchair and slammed him onto the desk. He leaned in closer again, his free clawed hand braced against Gerard's stomach, "How about a bisectomy? You always were a fan of those, weren't you? Weren't you?!" He pulled Gerard up and slammed him down again, "I should light you up and watch you burn, like you did to them!"

"I never burned anybody!"

"Liar! I saw you there! You were right next to her; after all you've done you may as well have dropped the match yourself! So many innocent people lost their lives that night!"

"If they could grow claws, they weren't that innocent..."

Peter roared as he stepped to the side and pulled Gerard off of the desk and threw him into the wall. As he bounced off of it, Peter sank both of his clawed hands into Gerard's sides, smiling as he heard the man struggle to draw in a breath. He silently announced justice to his fallen sister and relatives as he drug his hands up Gerard's sides, cutting him open, "Werewolf or not, they were still more innocent than you could ever be."

Gerard coughed and sputtered as blood started to flow out of his mouth. He tried to clear his throat before he said, "What--what fire?"

Peter's eyes glowed brighter with rage, "It doesn't matter to you. They've all probably blended together in your memory anyway. Just pass knowing that whatever good you think you've done, the world will never be able to see the good I've done it in doing this."

"Because it's murder."

"No," Peter said with a shake of his head as he put one hand on the back of Gerard's head and the other under his jaw, "this is retribution, a blood debt." Before Gerard could respond he swiftly snapped his neck. Letting out a sigh of relief as Gerard crumbled to the ground before him, he wiped the blood off his hands with one of Gerard's handkerchiefs, "Don't fret, Gerry; your death served a greater purpose than simple retribution." He tossed the handkerchief to the side as he made his way to the door.

"Thanks to you, now the real fun can begin."

\--------EICHEN HOUSE-------

_"Peter Hale is running free, K-I-L-L-I-N-G. First went your Mom. Then went the pack. We're gonna leave you here and we're not coming back."_

"Shut up!!!" Scott yelled through his tears, curled into a ball on the ground.

_"Hush, little Alpha, don't say a word. You're mommy's dead and I hope she burned. But if she didn't, just as well. I'll be sure to do it when I see her in Hell..."_

Scott clapped his hands over his ears to fruitless results as he begged, "Stop...just, please, stop."

_"And if I don't see her down there, that's fine. It's because of you all your loved ones died..."_


	3. Meanwhile...

Back at the house, Stiles, Malia and Lydia were sitting around the kitchen table discussing Scott's odd behavior at the party. They still hadn't come up with a 'how', but they felt confident they'd pinned down the 'when'.

"So, he feels dizzy, passes out and then wakes up acting strangely distant..." Lydia repeated for the hundredth time, as if hearing it out loud would help materialize an answer.

"This feels a lot like _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_...," Stiles muttered as he adjusted his seating.

"What, like snatching corpses? How did we get to corpse snatching?" Malia asked with a furrowed brow. 

"We didn't; you did," Stiles replied holding back a smirk as he rubbed Malia's back comfortingly, "So many movies, so little time between homicidal supernatural baddies and bloodthirsty homicidal werewolf hunters."

"The brevity of your attention spans is beginning to sound alarming," Lydia cracked, "considering it always seems to peak during times of crisis."

"It's Beacon Hills; when aren't we in a time of crisis?", Stiles retorted before he leaned back in his chair with a shrug, "Besides, it could just be Scott's been bummed about something. We're all entitled to a bad day."

"Or season," Malia added, "so I side with Stiles on this one."

"Hey, guys," Kira smiled as she walked into the kitchen. She pointed toward the living room with her thumb, "I promised Liam a ride home so we're--" She paused feeling the tense energy in the air, "Is this a meeting?"

"More like brainstorming," Lydia suggested with a shrug.

"We think Scott's been...," Malia looked to Stiles for help, who responded with a shrug and shaking his head.

"Acting weird?" Kira finished, "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. He was looking at me differently."

"Differently, how?" Stiles asked, sitting up.

"Like a hunter."

 

\---------EICHEN HOUSE-------

_I have to get out of here. I have to get out, find Peter and--_

_"And do what, dear? Are you going to kill him? Then you'll be stuck that way forever. Your pack will not believe you and you will be an omega."_

"I'll still be an alpha..."

_"And what good is an alpha without a pack? Your naivety is quite refreshing, you know. They had you believing you were a true alpha...so, either I'm more powerful than I thought...or your mind is a little too malleable. Trust me, your pack is better off dead."_

 

\---------------------------

"Now that you mention it, he was a bit weird with Liam, too," Stiles said to the group as they continued discussing Scott's abnormal behavior.

Malia groaned as she massaged her temple, "He told me there was something going on so that's probably what it is. Can we move on to a different subject now? I'm bored with this one."

"I have one for you," the sheriff said as he entered the kitchen, "Gerard Argent was just found dead at the nursing home. I won't know for sure until I get there, but from what they tell me this sounds like it's right up your alley."

Stiles smirked as he started heading for the door, "This I've got to see."

John's brow furrowed as he turned toward his son, "I know it's Argent, but you don't have to be so damn cheery about it."

"What; are you kidding me? The guy was a raging psychopath. Are we forgetting the time he kidnapped and pummeled me in his basement?" Stiles' mood immediately sobered up when he saw his father's face pale, "Yeah, I...uh, forgot that you didn't...know that."

John's eyes narrowed, "You told me it was a couple of thugs from the other team." He huffed out a sigh as he closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He started heading for the door himself and said gruffly as he passed Stiles, "I'll race you there."

 

\----------------------------

"According to the M.E., he suffered some head trauma before the killer stabbed him," Parrish filled the sheriff in as they entered the room followed by Lydia, Stiles, and Kira.

"Whoa," Stiles uttered as he saw Gerard's body, "stabbed by who, Wolverine?" He turned to Lydia, "Am I the only one who wants to buy this guy dinner?"

"That depends; do you mean Jordan or the killer?" Lydia asked as she looked up at Stiles who shared a sarcastic smile with her.

"The other guys think we're dealing with an act of passion; guy stabbed him three times then drug the knife up to cut him open," Parrish supplied the sheriff before he turned to Stiles, "I'm thinking werewolf."

"Why would anyone want to kill Gerard, though?" Kira asked softly. When Stiles and Lydia shot her looks of skepticism she added, "I mean, he was already living in a nursing home coughing up black, viscous fluid."

"Yeah, but this is--was--Gerard Argent. He wasn't exactly the most... _friendly_ guy," Stiles answered as he rubbed the back of his head. He added with a shrug, "Unless he wanted you to kill something for him...or someone."

"Well, either way, if this was a werewolf we need to find out who it is," John said.

Stiles' expression dropped, "Wait, 'we'? Heh, no. No, Dad, there is no 'we'--well, there is but you're not--damn it. You deal with the human killers, we deal with the supernatural killers, alright?"

"Stiles, as long as I'm still sheriff, this is _my_ town to protect! Now, I'm damn--"

"Dad, we're not going over this again. I can't--I worry about you enough with you going after your garden variety muggers. I don't need you going after the garden variety werewolves, too."

"Yeah? Well, it goes both ways, son. And this--" John pointed to Gerard's body, "when I see these bodies, Stiles? The ones taken by supernatural forces? I don't just see the victims' faces; I see you. I see my son because I never know when I'm going to get a call that your mauled corpse has been found in some secluded area on Beacon Hills Reserve!"

"Dad, I--"

"I've already lost your mother, Stiles. I can't lose you, too; I won't. So...you're grounded."

\------------------------

Peter stood on the balcony with his arms behind his back, his gaze focused on the Portland landscape as he listened to the steady heartbeat of the man--werewolf, technically--that stood in the middle of the living room behind him. He leaned forward and braced his hands against the railing before he tilted his head to the side,

"My apologies for dropping in unexpectedly, but I'm afraid I _do_ need an answer before I can leave." He returned his gaze to the landscape one final time as he muttered, "Pause for effect..."

"Scott, I know I owe you a great deal, but you can't just 'drop in', as you put it, and demand a hastened decision. You have a great deal to learn about wa--"

"It's a yes or no question," he interrupted. Sighing exasperatedly as he rolled his eyes, Peter turned around and continued, "So are you in or out, Deucalion?"

Deucalion stared at him a moment longer before he nodded confidently, "I'm in."

Peter's mouth slowly twisted into a smirk. Could this be going any easier? Well, an epidemic contained inside Eichen House, maybe, but this was good, too, "I was hoping you'd say that."

 

\--------------------------

" _Grounded?_ What do you--Dad!" Stiles threw his arms up, "Do you not see the freshly carved jack o'Argent? There's no way I'm just going to walk awa--"

"Honestly, I don't give a damn about the supernatural, Stiles."

"Yeah? What about my friends? Are you gonna try to make me abandon them, too?"

John rolled his eyes, "Your friends all have supernatural capabilities, Stiles; you don't."

Stiles clenched his jaw in frustration, "Dad, I've survived a crazy alpha werewolf, a kanima, an entire pack of Alphas, human sacrifices--I was possessed by an evil fox spirit, for crying out loud! I can handle a killer werewolf." He looked at Gerard again and arched his brow, "Shit, I'll probably buy the guy some flowers first."

Sensing the building tension, Kira stepped over to Stiles and said, "Stiles, maybe you should sit this one out?"

"What?" Stiles asked incredulously while he looked between Kira and his father, "Have the two of you taken crazy pills or something?" He shook his head as he walked over to Gerard's body and threw his arms out to draw attention to the body, "This...jackass was killed by probably--hopefully--a werewolf; a supernatural, accelerated healing-having, super strong, full moon fetishist _werewolf_!"

"That's not the point," Kira said as she crossed her arms and shrugged toward his dad, "Just sit this one out for his sake, ok? I'll call Scott and the rest of us will get started on it."

"I'm not sit--"

"Okay, then how about a compromise?" Lydia interrupted, already tired of the back and forth. She looked at the sheriff and asked, "Would you be willing to keep Stiles informed on any new developments and let him do research for us?"

John sighed, "I don't want him--"

"He won't even have to leave his room," Lydia replied with a shake of her head.

John looked at each one of them, actually humoring Stiles with a momentary staring contest before he relented with a sigh, "Alright," When Stiles threw up a hand in victory he added, "but you take one step past research, just one, the next time your friends see you they won't even remember what a 'Stiles' is. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Stiles replied with a mock salute as he headed toward the door, "Alright, troops; to the wolf den!"

John groaned as he watched the three teens leave, "What did I just finish saying? Is my kid deaf or something? Am I even speaking English anymore?"

Parrish shrugged, "Wolf Den has a nice ring to it..."

John turned to look at Jordan incredulously and opened his mouth to say something before deciding it wouldn't be worth it. He shook his head and gestured toward Gerard's body, "Call the guys in to take him to the morgue, then get started on your report."

"Right, Sir," Jordan said with a nod. As John headed toward the door he asked, "Would I file this under 'M' for murder, 'S' for supernatural, or 'W' for werewolf?"

"Don't follow my son's example, Parrish, unless you want your salary filed under 'U' for unemployed."


	4. Rapunzel Syndrome

_"Shhh, young alpha. You needn't fret about your predicament."_

Scott rolled his eyes with a grunt as he sat up on the bed. There were no clocks in here, no way to tell how much time had passed since he'd woken up in Peter's body. For all he knew it could have only been a few hours, but in here it felt like an eternity. He needed to get out, the urge to protect his pack growing stronger by the minute.

The witch's voice had said Peter killed them all, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that. She'd told him her plan, how she switched them so Peter could come back and spring her out. Peter Hale was many things, but a solitary agent was never one of them. If there were people he could manipulate into pawns for his schemes then he'd sooner use them before killing them. No, his pack was alive; his mother was alive--otherwise he'd have felt it.

Another thing he'd learned in his recent captivity, what Peter would probably call a 'caveat', was his eye color hadn't changed. And if his eyes were still alpha red, then Peter's were still blue. Maybe Peter would lose control and one of the pack would catch his eyes shifting colors? It was wishful thinking, considering Peter's level of intellect, but this was also the werewolf who'd unwittingly transformed Kate Argent into a werejaguar instead of killing her.

_"Hahaha, you think being a true alpha is going to help you now? My dear, if it didn't stop my spell in its tracks then you've got nothing. The only chance you have now is for Peter to fail in the next two days."_

 

\------------------------

"Well, has anyone seen Scott?" Stiles asked as he typed something into the search engine on his computer, tapping the fingers of his free hand impatiently on the desktop.

 _"Not yet,"_ Lydia's voice replied over speakerphone, _"but it's two in the morning, Stiles. You need to get some rest; we all do."_

Stiles rolled his eyes, "We don't have that luxury right now, Lyds. We've got a killer something running around town, I'm grounded, and our alpha is MIA. Something needs to go right or we may as well bend over and spread our cheeks now."

_"Oh, Stiles, that's really gross. Listen, you said it yourself, okay? You're stuck playing bookworm and we don't know where Scott is; how are we going to solve either of those problems at two in the morning? Turn the computer off, get some sleep, and we'll call a meeting at your place tomorrow to figure out a plan of action."_

"What? No. Lydia, I'm wide awake right now, k? Seriously, if my eyes were open any wider they'd pop out of their sockets," Stiles replied.

As the two of them continued their banter, Malia rolled over in the bed and shot him a glare. She casually slid out from under the covers and padded over to the desk, bent over and ripped the power cable out of the wall. She then pulled the other end out of the back of the computer and held the cable up in front of her. As Stiles watched on slack-jawed, she held up her other hand and flicked out her claws before shredding it up.

"Wha-Ma-..." Stiles gawked at her wide-eyed.

"Computer's off, Lyds. Night," Malia said to the phone before she ended the call and glared at Stiles pointedly, "Get in the bed, Stiles, or the next time you ask for a handjob it'll be with this," she said as she raised her clawed hand.

Stiles swallowed back a silent gulp as he looked at her hand before asking, "If I get in the bed will you give me one with the other hand?" Her replying growl prompted him to hastily say, "K, that'll be a no," as he got up and jumped into the bed.

"Good boy," Malia snarkily praised with a smirk before she crawled into the other side of the bed and closed her eyes, "Sweet dreams, Stiles."

"Yeah, not tonight," he muttered to himself as he got settled in and shut off the light.

\-------------------

Peter smiled as he felt the cool evening breeze against his face, tilting his head back as if he were relishing the sensation. His eyes were closed as he allowed the quiet surrounding him bring him closer to peace than he'd felt in a long time. 

Time. That was something he didn't really have much of at the moment, but that would soon change. After he'd killed Gerard, Peter chose to spend the remainder of the evening concocting the perfect story to convince the pack to fight the staff of Eichen House with him.

He should probably get on that...

Maybe after a couple more minutes with his new friend.

His smile twisted into a grin as the leaves rustled behind him. He turned, pursing his lips in mock sympathy as the girl slowly came to, her feet gently scraping back and forth against the cool ground. He arched his eyebrow, fighting off the boredom with the promise of overwhelming satisfaction when this was finished.

"Wakey wakey," he cooed softly as he slowly stepped toward her, "I was starting to wonder if you'd ever wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

The girl examined her surroundings before looking up at him through tear-filled eyes, "Who are you? Why am I tied up?"

Peter clicked his tongue disapprovingly and shook his head, "Why do you always ask the same stupid questions? 'Who are you?' 'Why am I tied up?' Isn't it obvious, my dear?" He crouched in front of her and reached out, gently stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers, "You're tied up so you can't get away," he chuckled, "I thought that'd be painfully obvious. Who I am doesn't matter...because you won't be alive long enough for the need to remember it."

The girl drew in a shaky breath as she tried to scoot away to no avail. She slowly shook her head as her tears started to flow heavily, "Please don't--"

"Oh!" Peter groaned loudly in disgust as he threw his head back, "Not the useless pleading! _Anything_ but the 'please don't kill me' spiel! Do you think I would go through all of this trouble and be swayed to backing out of it so easily with a few tears and runny mascara?"

When the girl sniffled he put on a sincerely apologetic expression, "Look... I'm not a stone cold killer. Okay, so maybe I am, but it's always very justifiable. Look at me," he said as he tilted her chin up, "I _am_ going to kill you; it's a necessity. You see, there's this...rather large group of people that I need to take down, to kill, and I've been out of the game for a while. I need to get my juices flowing..." He grabbed onto her hair and yanked it back as he stood up, "and nothing gets my juices flowing faster than a pretty girl."

 

\---------DAY 2---------

_"We are on the scene at the Beacon Hills Preserve where officers tell us a gruesome homicide took place, just last night. This morning police discovered the remains of 22-year old Marnie Philips; the cause of death appears to have been deep lacerations to the victim's throat, arms and torso. They say, however, that they haven't recovered the entire body..."_

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Stiles asked as he muted the television.

"If she was just mauled then the animal that got her could have just harvested some meat," Malia offered.

"Eugh, can we not use the words 'meat' and 'harvested' when talking about murder victims, please?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if that's what happens next," Lydia mentioned offhandedly. As Liam and Kira entered behind her, she paused in her tracks and pointed to Stiles, "Stiles, wendigos; how do they kill their prey?"

"It's not wendigos," Stiles stated with a shake of his head, "if it was, there wouldn't be anything left but bones. Where the hell is the rest of the body?"

"Right now, that's the least of our concerns," Malia said as she headed toward the front door.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asked as he stood up and followed her.

"To do the most obvious thing when a pack needs their alpha; I'm going to sniff him out," Malia opened the door and stopped before she ran into "Scott", who was on the other side, "That was easier than I expected..."

"Hi," he said sheepishly as he looked over the others behind Malia, "I, uh, have some explaining to do."

"Damn right you do!" Stiles shouted as he gently nudged Malia aside so he could pull Scott in, "So get nice and comfy on the sofa and start listing all the reasons I shouldn't be lacing your food with wolfsbane."

Liam winced before he leaned in toward Kira and whispered, "Does he smell funny to you?"

Kira arched her brow and shrugged, "I can't tell; werewolves' sense of smell is stronger than a kitsune's. Why?"

"I'm not sure," Liam said with a shake of his head. He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched Scott, Stiles and Malia head into the living room, "I mean, he smells the same...sort of, but there's something else. Something... _not_ Scott-smelling."

"Alright, Lassie," Stiles said through an exasperated sigh as he turned Peter around and pushed him onto the couch, "start talking."

Peter arched his brow in amusement before he shrugged his head offhandedly and started, "Well, Timmy didn't fall down a well, but--"

"No sarcasm," Stiles bluntly interrupted.

"Right," Peter muttered. He licked his bottom lip to moisten it as he re-positioned himself on the couch. If he was going to have any chance of suckering the pack into helping him, his story needed to be plausible. "The past couple of days, I've been helping someone with a problem...and we've seemed to have hit a dead end. I thought that I could handle this one on my own, test out my true alpha capabilities, but if I'm being honest I have to say I'm severely overestimating myself. That's why I'm here now," he said softly before looking up at Stiles, "to ask for your help."

Lydia pursed her lips skeptically, "Would you care to elaborate on this situation?"

Peter offered her a sheepish smile before he bowed his head and said, "I ran into a girl whose mother had been kidnapped many years ago by a group of hunters. Apparently, her mother was a practitioner of witchcraft whose reputation of great power preceded her; I suppose they thought they could effortlessly get the upper hand on the rest of us. Regardless, she followed their trail after some time and tracked her mother down to here."

"O...kay," Malia said slowly, "so, why aren't mommy and daughter reunited?"

Peter eyed her darkly, "Because _Mommy_ is locked away in Eichen House, and last time I checked they aren't particularly fond of visitors."

"Eichen House?" Stiles narrowed his eyes, "How the hell did she end up there?"

Oh, Stiles; and you were supposed to be the smarter one. Tsk, tsk.

"We're not entirely sure. Hell, she couldn't even find out the name of the hunters that took her. My best guess is they either got what they wanted out of her or she refused to give it to them so they had her committed to keep her out of the way."

"But if she's a witch, why didn't she just -pfft- stop them?" Liam asked. Leave it to Scott McCall to turn an annoyingly curious teenager into a werewolf.

"Do I look like I was there, Liam?" He snapped to the beta. Sensing the newly forming tension, he closed his eyes and centered himself before continuing, "Look, it doesn't matter why she didn't use magic; what matters is getting her out of there."

"Well, I doubt a witch with a reputation like that could be held down by a couple of orderlies for too long," Lydia stated. "I mean, magic and all."

"That's because there's a secret wing in there, off-limits to the --dare I say it-- normal inmates, designed and staffed to handle supernatural cases." Spotting their looks of curiosity he elaborated, "It's kind of a two birds, one stone kind of thing; psychiatric ward for the crazy creatures and a prison for the criminally crazy creatures."

"Oh, like Peter," Stiles said with a smirk.

Peter growled irritably, silently promising himself to push Stiles into the first armed orderly they ran across. He put on a false smile and said, "Yes...like _Peter_."

"Okay," Kira said through a sigh as she crossed the room and sat down next to "Scott", putting her hand on his knee. "So, what do we do?"

Peter arched a brow as he eyed her hand before he looked up at her and smiled, "We're going to break her out."


	5. Planning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this chapter! This one's a little short, basically a kind of filler to bridge the gap between last chapter and the brunt of the action. 
> 
> Also, Peter has a surprise for the pack.

_This shouldn't be as easy as it's turning out to be,_ Peter thought to himself as he watched the rest of the pack huddling around the coffee table in the living room trying to devise a plan. Peter's irritation had been growing with every plan they came up with, followed by solutions to every problematic scenario they'd thought of, which only brought on more questions. He uncrossed his arms with a short sigh of exasperation before walking up to the table and yanking the blueprints off.

"Scott, what the hell, man?!" Stiles exclaimed as he turned to look at him.

"What?" Peter deadpanned before he tossed the map aside. "We can sit around looking at those blueprints all day and we will still not have any solid plan. It's called a 'secret wing' for a reason, so I'm pretty sure they wouldn't be stupid enough to put it on their blueprints."

"Maybe, but there could still be a few clues on how to get in there. When I was there they didn't want anyone going into the basement. At the time I thought that it was because of the body that was hidden in the wall, but maybe it had something to do with this? There could be a-a secret tunnel or staircase or _something_."

"Or it could just be a basement and we'll trap ourselves like fish in a barrel," Peter stated matter-of-factly before he took a seat on the couch. He clapped his hands together, bringing them to his mouth before he said, "Other than the basement, was there anything else you can think of that might be able to tip us off? A door that never seemed to be entered or something?"

Stiles shook his head in frustration, "No, I was too busy trying to stop another inmate who had been possessed by an evil fly from giving Malia a trepanation to notice anything."

Peter rolled his eyes while Lydia interjected, "How about patterns in the rooming? If there's a secret wing, then all we have to do is figure out which parts of it had the most traffic and we can single it out."

As they started chattering amongst each other, Peter's eyes glowed blue before he shot up and threw the coffee table across the room with a roar. The others watched him alarmingly as he stormed to the front door and seethed, "How about we just go in now and rip their fucking throats out?!"

"What the hell..." Liam muttered to himself.

"What, and then get all of us killed before we can even make it to the second floor? We're talking about Eichen House; we can't just waltz in," Stiles argued as he followed "Scott" to the door.

"Well, it's a hell of a lot better plan than sitting around here trading dialogue, isn't it?"

Malia cocked her brow watching their exchange before she stood up from the couch and stepped between the two of them, "Both of you, sit." She turned around as they moved to the couch and eyed everyone else, "Not a word from anybody until I'm done talking, got it? Good. Now, while everyone else was busy trying to devise these stupid ass schemes to break in, I was laughing to myself at your blatant blindness to the obvious. It's a psychiatric hospital, which means we don't have to _break_ in; we just have to check in." She raised her eyebrows as if to say 'duh' and raised her hands up to her shoulders with a shrug, "So, who's it going to be?"

"Well, wouldn't the obvious choice be Scott?" Liam asked.

Peter shot him a glare, "Says the were-pup who is deluded enough to think he's Vanilla Ice--psychotically, I'd say." He leaned back into the couch and nodded his head toward Kira, "I think it should be us. Stiles and Malia can't because they've already been in, too suspicious, and our little Liam is still looking a bit...green."

"Well, what about me?" Lydia asked as she slightly raised her hand.

Peter shook his head, "You never know what kind of sound is going to trigger your banshee hearing; we can't risk your mind trailing off at the wrong time. So, Kira and I will play crazy house and scope the place out. Once we find a way in we'll let you know."

"How?" Stiles asked.

Peter looked to Liam with a smirk, "With a howl, of course."

 

\------)(EICHEN HOUSE)(------

 

"Why can't I howl?" Scott asked himself incessantly as he rocked back and forth on the cold floor. His eyes were still red when they shifted and he could still feel the alpha strength inside of him, but it was like he couldn't touch it.

"Why can't I howl?...Why can't I howl?... Why can't I--"

_"Oh, knock it off, will you? You're giving me such a migraine,"_ the witch's voice mocked in his mind. _"I don't know why you're so obsessed with this howling thing, anyway. You may be a true alpha, dear, but our mutual friend was no alpha at all, despite his disillusionment. I sensed something...rather unusual about him when they brought him in. Tell me, has he ever_ died _before?"_

Scott nodded his head against his arms, "Worm moon..."

_"Ahhh..._ worm moon, eh _? Bringing oneself back from the dead can take a toll on them. You poor thing; you have no idea, do you? Peter's strength must yet to be fully restored, which means your strength is only as powerful as his body can allow it to be. Your voice will go hoarse before you ever howl loud enough for anyone to hear you outside these walls..."_

 

Scott shook his head, "I'm going to kill him..."

 

\------------------------------------------------------

 

Peter sat in the passenger seat of Stiles' jeep with a smirk, chomping at the bit to get his revenge on Scott McCall for everything he'd done. If it weren't for him, that stupid lopsided-jawed teenager would have never become a werewolf in the first place, let alone a true Alpha. He had absolutely no idea what kind of power he possessed and it infuriated Peter to no end. 

He arched his brow as he looked over at Stiles, sighing softly before he turned his attention back to the passing traffic. Stiles wouldn't have been any better, of course. If anything, he probably could have stopped Peter earlier. Oh well; all of that would soon prove to be for naught. The battles with Kate, Gerard, the kanima, the Alpha pack and Darach, Berserkers... None of them realized who the ultimate enemy was the entire time. They were foolish enough to turn to him for help after they thwarted his vengeance for his murdered family? 

No self-respecting werewolf would allow anyone to get away with that. A police siren pulled everyone from their respective thoughts as red and blue lights illuminated the interior of the Jeep.

"Damn it..." Stiles muttered as he checked out the vehicle in the side view mirror while he pulled over, "it's just my dad, guys."

Peter raised his eyebrows as he examined everyone's faces before turning his face toward his side view mirror, "Right on time..."

The sheriff approached the driver's side of the van, his expression fixed sternly, and twirled his finger in a gesture telling Stiles to roll the window down. As the glass barrier lowered he nodded to his son, "Stiles."

Stiles waved nonchalantly and gave his father a sheepish smile, "Hey-a, Daddy-o... What's, uh... what brings you out on this..." he paused to look up at the sky, "overcast evening?"

John sighed exasperatedly with a roll of his eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as he said, "As much as I would love to discuss your apparent lack of understanding for the term 'grounded', which I guarantee we will, I'm actually here for Scott."

Stiles furrowed his brow, "Scott?"

Peter leaned forward so the Sheriff could see him better as he flashed him an innocent smile, "What can I do for you, Sheriff?"

John's brow arched slightly as he addressed him, "I've been working on a fresh homicide on the Preserve, girl's throat ripped open."

Peter shrugged, "It's probably the same thing that killed Gerard."

The sheriff sighed heavily, "Yeah, see that's what I'm afraid of, Scott. We found a hair on the victim's jacket and we got a match."

"That's great!" Stiles replied enthusiastically, "Then, how about you get to catching the guy so we can go get this supernatural business over with and get to that talk, huh?" He smiled at his dad with a sarcastic wink.

John ignored his son as he continued with 'Scott', "The DNA was a perfect match with yours, Scott."

Stiles' smile fell, "Wait, What?" He turned to check 'Scott' before turning back to look at his father incredulously, "Dad, that's insane. Scott wouldn't even kill the Darach and she tried to sacrifice you guys."

"Do you think I'm not having any trouble wrapping my head around this, son? I'm sure it's a mistake, but until we find out I have to follow protocol."

"Dad--"

"Stiles," Peter said, putting a hand on his shoulder, "it's okay. I'll go with your dad and you all can go ahead without me."

"What?!" Stiles squeaked, "Are you insane?! Scott, we're about to--" he remembered his father was standing there and caught himself, "you know what, and you seriously want to leave it up to us?"

Peter smiled reassuringly, "I have the utmost faith in all of you guys, alright?" He turned to eye Liam, Kira and Malia before he turned his gaze back to Stiles, "Look, I have a reinforcement waiting to meet us there. Tell him what happened and he'll be able to take the lead."

"Reinforcement? Who, Terminator?!" Stiles retorted as Peter stepped out of the car, "Scott!" He watched his father cuff his best friend, read him his rights, and lead him away to the patrol car before he threw himself against his seat and slammed his hand onto the steering wheel, "Son of a fucking bitch, man!"

"You don't think he killed Gerard too, do you?" Malia asked everyone.

Stiles groaned, "Not now, Malia."

Kira eyed Stiles sympathetically before she stated, "Let's just go and get this over with, then we can focus on Scott's dilemma, k? One hurdle at a time."

 

\----------

Peter smiled to himself as he watched the Jeep drive off into the distance before he turned around and eyed the back of the sheriff's head. Everything was working out exactly the way he intended it to. With the pack no doubtedly pondering about Scott's innocence, it was only a matter of time before they connected the dots to Gerard. Their minds would be too preoccupied to operate properly in Eichen House, thus putting them and Deucalion more at risk of failing-- and dying in the process. All without him even having to flex a muscle.

If they succeeded, then they would bring the witch out. Of they failed, then she would switch he and Scott back. He'd still be trapped in Eichen House, but the real Scott would be left with the aftermath of his little joyride in the young true alpha's body. The pack would be shattered and Peter could live with that satisfaction no matter his circumstances. Of course, he could probably do the same if they succeeded, but every time he considered that possibility he chuckled.

In the end, no matter the outcome, he would still come out on top. That's just the way it is. The way of the Alpha.

And he has always been the Alpha.


	6. Hiatus Update

Hey, guys. I hate to waste a chapter space for this but as of this moment this story is on an indefinite hiatus. I hadn't watched 5a due to work and such, then after I started this story 5b started and they embarked on a mission to save Lydia from Eichen. I spotted so many similarities with things I'd written or planned and I just don't feel comfortable pursuing this story anymore.

I won't delete it because I'm proud of what I've managed to do with it and I might come back to it in the future, but as of now this story will remain incomplete. I'm sorry if this causes any frustration but I can't force the story out especially if the passion for it is gone.


End file.
